


Rain on a Tin Roof

by MT_Yami



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chocobos, Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Promptio Week 2017, Storms, Trial of Ramuh, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 10:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11378406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MT_Yami/pseuds/MT_Yami
Summary: When Ramuh’s storm separates the group and Gladiolus is left nursing an injured Prompto, he tries to make his long-harbored feelings known. But does the gunner still have eyes for Noctis, and Noctis alone?Written for Promptio Week 2017 Day 7 - First(s)/Free (Gods)





	Rain on a Tin Roof

For as long as he could remember, those steel blue eyes followed Noctis wherever he went.

While they drove, Prompto always insisted on turning around in his seat to talk animatedly at Noctis, much to Ignis’ chagrin. Gladiolus sat in the back of the Regalia with his beloved volumes of “The Silence of Knowledge” tucked safely under the seat in front of him, trying not to be too obvious as he peered over the top of his book at them. Between reading lines of philosophical thought, he listened to snippets of their conversation and watched those eyes light up as the gunner laughed, an unrestrained peal that sometimes startled Ignis into swerving the car.

After all these years, it would stand to reason that Gladiolus would have ceased his fruitless admiration of the little gunner, but every time he vowed to move on, there had been a smile, a laugh, an adorably sung victory ditty that drew him back in. But those eyes remained firmly trained on Noctis, and Noctis alone.

They all loved Noctis, to be sure, and their devotion to the crown prince of Lucis ran deep and unrivaled in all of Eos. But there was no mistaking the wounded look in Prompto’s eyes when Noctis spoke lovingly of Lunafreya, a stab of hurt that Gladiolus was all too familiar with at this point. Whenever that happened, Gladiolus would just bury his nose deeper into his book and pretend he didn’t see it, whether for his dignity or for Prompto’s, he wasn’t sure.

But his books were gone now, every last volume, still stowed under the front seat of the Regalia and unintentionally seized by the Empire. He knew that he should have kept at least _one_ in his jacket pocket, since now he had nothing to read while listening to his companions prattle on around the campfire at night. And to make matters worse, that damn dog was back. Apparently, they needed to traipse all over Duscae to find some runestones, something about Ramuh, something about astrals, nothing Gladiolus understood or frankly, really cared to understand.

With the Regalia impounded somewhere in enemy territory, Noctis had no choice but to whistle for the chocobos. Gladiolus watched Prompto cheer excitedly as he saw them come up over the hill, their yellow plumage puffed as they called to the group. The blond man was happiest when he was around animals, even the fierce little babyhemoth he had found and befriended in the grove behind Wiz’s Chocobo Post. He had insisted on petting its soft purple fur even as it gnawed none too gently at his fingers, the gunner laughing through the pain of it all.

The storm rolled in as soon as Umbra left the party, scampering through the thicket to Six knows where. Gladiolus grimaced at the light drizzle and the distant rumble of thunder, and the chocobos stood in an awkward pack, shaking water droplets from their dampening feathers and squawking their displeasure.

“The first runestone shouldn’t be far,” Noctis nodded to Gladiolus as he swung up into the saddle. “Be prepared to fight through Imperial blockades if we have to...we’re going to follow the lightning strikes.”

“That sounds... _safe_ ,” Gladiolus remarked dryly, to no response from his companions. “Yeesh, tough crowd.” He reached down to pat his chocobo on the neck, already covered with a light sheen of droplets, but the bird was startled by the sudden movement of Prompto blowing past them, whooping loudly. The shield urged his spooked mount forward with a rueful smile, catching up and matching Prompto’s chocobo stride for stride.

The laughing young man riding next to him was, decidedly, the Prompto he loved most, body pressed close over the neck of his chocobo, urging him faster, jumping higher, wheeling around their group with a gleeful shout even in the dreariness. He had a natural seat and a gentle hand, and the birds responded to him like Gladiolus had never seen before; it was always a joy to behold.

Gladiolus fought to keep his eyes forward and focused on the grove of trees over which the sky was lighting up as if on a timer. The shield could barely distinguish the charge in the air from the electric feeling he got every time his gaze shifted back to Prompto, gamboling over the slippery rocks towards the canyon pass ahead. His chocobo’s wings fluttered as they glided down to try and overtake Noctis and Ignis, who rode several lengths ahead of them, his fists full of yellow feathers and his unruly blond hair bleached white by the lightning strikes behind him.

But suddenly the flash of light was too bright, the crack too loud, the scream of the chocobos as ear-splitting as the lightning. The acrid smell of burning filled the air, and Gladiolus could barely make out Prompto, thrown violently from the saddle onto the rocks as his chocobo leaped wildly to avoid the massive tree that crashed, ablaze, into the narrow canyon.

“Prom!” he cried, his lungs quickly filling with smoke. He could feel his chocobo shaking beneath him and he placed a hand on the bird’s neck in reassurance. “Prom, are you okay?”

“Gladio, I’m fine! Where’s Noct? Noct! Where are you?” Prompto struggled to his knees, his hand still clutching the reins of his frantic, baying chocobo. As Gladiolus finally managed to bring his chocobo close to the giant fallen trunk, he could clearly see the grimace on the gunner’s face.

He vaulted off of the bird’s back, reins in hand, and rushed to Prompto’s side. “You’re hurt,” Gladiolus hissed, reaching down to touch his shoulder.

“‘Tis merely a flesh wound,” Prompto insisted with a dry laugh, but gasped as he attempted to stand. “ _Fuck,_ my knee!” He cried out in pain, his panting breath coming hard and fast. “Six, that actually really hurts. We have to find Noct. Noct! _NOCT!”_ The gunner erupted into a coughing fit, the smoke thick and black around them.

Gladiolus took the chocobo’s reins from him, and the two birds picked at each other anxiously. “Come on, we have to get out of here. These birdy lungs aren’t going to take this smoke much longer, and neither are yours.”

“We can’t leave without Noct!”

Gladiolus grabbed him roughly around the waist and slung Prompto’s arm over his shoulders, urging him to his feet. “Prom, listen to me. We don’t know where they are, and we have to get away from here. We can figure it out once the chocobos are a safe distance from the fire.”

“Prompto! Gladio! Where are you?”

Prompto pushed him away, screaming hoarsely somewhere by Gladiolus’ ear. “Noct? Noct, I’m here!”

“We’re on the other side of the tree, I think? Are you guys okay? We can't see you.”

“Noct! Prom’s hurt. It looks like the tree completely blocked off the path. Do you see a way for us to get to you?” Gladiolus yelled, dragging Prompto forcibly away from the burning tree.

“I don’t think so. The walls of this canyon are sheer-faced. We’d have to find a way around, but we’re losing light fast.”

“We can do it,” Prompto wheezed. “We can get on the chocobos and look for a way across.”

Gladiolus shook his head. “These birdies are in no condition to be climbing around with the smoke in their lungs, and there’s no way you’ll be able to hang onto a chocobo over this terrain with that leg.” He felt Prompto start to struggle again, and he growled at the gunner threateningly. “Prom, stop, it’ll be nightfall soon. We have to seek shelter. We passed a little shack not that long ago we can just backtrack to and wait for the rain to put out the fire.”

“But Noct and Iggy—”

“Are fine.” Gladiolus raised his voice again. “Noct! You guys are okay, right? We’re going to find a place to spend the night. Prom’s knee is in bad shape.”

“We’re fine! Ignis and I are just fine, just a little shaken. We’ll see what we can do to find a way back to you guys as soon as we can.”

“But—!”

“Prom, you heard him. Let’s go.” Gladiolus’ scowl left no room for argument, and the gunner nodded reluctantly, his lips pursed tightly in frustration.

The rain began to fall again in earnest as Gladiolus lifted Prompto gently back into the saddle, and they rode in complete silence as the sky began to darken overhead.

\--

They left their soggy chocobos tied outside and hurried, Prompto leaning hard on Gladiolus’ shoulder, into the run-down shack as the drizzle grew into a steady downpour. The door, broken on its hinges, banged violently each time the wind blew, and the gunner shivered as Gladiolus helped him sit up against the bare wooden frame of the wall.

“I hope they can find us here okay.” Prompto’s bottom lip was chewed red from the pain, his eyes anxiety-filled. “The storm’s getting worse.”

“I'm sure they will. They’ll come find us when the storm clears.”

“The storm is because of Ramuh, you know that right?” Prompto cocked his head at Gladiolus and laughed wryly. “Ramuh, the storm god. He's calling for a covenant with Noct. That's what this whole thing is about.” He frowned then, his hands wringing. “The storm won't end until he finds all the runestones. Why don't you know this, aren't you like, always reading those fancy books of yours?”

So he _had_ noticed something about him. Gladiolus hid a smile.

“I read philosophy books. Not fairytales.”

“You don't believe in the Six?”

“I believe in facts,” the shield replied noncommittally. “I'm more of a ‘seeing is believing’ kind of guy.”

Prompto quirked an eyebrow at him, leaning his head back to bump the wall gently. “And seeing Titan didn't change your opinion about the Six being, oh I don't know, _real?_ I'm thinking that big stone arm felt pretty real to me. Really fucking painful.” He laughed at his own joke, and Gladiolus let himself smile in response.

“Haha, very funny. Yes, I admit that Titan is real. And maybe Ramuh, maybe Leviathan, maybe Shiva, maybe Bahamut, and maybe even Ifrit. But we haven’t _seen_ them yet, have we?” He looked pointedly at Prompto with a teasing grin, and the blond man laughed until he winced, grabbing at his knee with both hands to staunch the stabbing pain.

Gladiolus regarded him with a frown. “Is it broken, you think?”

The gunner shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t feel any bones sticking out of it or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s just really painful if I try to move it.”

“Shit, is that blood? Let me see.” Gladiolus leaned down to peer at Prompto’s chest, his frown deepening.

“Um, _what?”_

“There’s blood on your shirt. You know, that was a pretty bad fall you took earlier. I’m no Iggy but I can probably tell if you broke a rib or something, so take it off so we can look.”

Prompto’s eyes filled with panic and he averted his gaze. “Um....I’d really prefer not to. Not in front of you.”

The words stung, and Gladiolus straightened again quickly. “Oh.”

“It’s nothing against _you_ in particular or anything, I just...I don’t like anyone seeing my body.” Prompto sniffled and wiped his nose absently. “There are some days where I can barely stand to look at it myself.” He spoke the last part so softly that Gladiolus wasn’t sure if he had meant to say it aloud.

It occurred to Gladiolus that even during Crownsguard training, he’d never seen Prompto in the nude, or even in any state of undress really, as was commonplace when you found yourself living and showering with a horde of other soldiers-to-be. “Well...be that as it may, you fell pretty hard onto a bunch of rocks, so I’d really like it if we made sure that you’re not hurt worse than we thought.”

Prompto looked at him sourly, his eyes darting back and forth in thought. The sound of the rain filled the silence, and Gladiolus sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding his breath until then.

“It's raining harder now. I hope they're okay out there.”

Gladio shrugged. “I think you better worry about yourself. Iggy can take care of Noctis on his own.”

“...okay, if I take it off, will you promise not to laugh?” Prompto’s voice was small, smaller than Gladiolus had ever heard it before.

“Hey, we’re friends, right? Why the hell would I laugh?”

The blond man shrugged off his skull vest and looked up at Gladiolus with distrustful eyes. “Fine, you win. But only because I’ll be more of a burden if I’m hurt worse than we thought and we don’t do anything about it right away.”

Prompto wriggled out of his soaked tank top and threw it onto the ground in front of him, his mouth in a lip-trembling frown as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve ever taken my shirt off for someone else.” His wry smile then looked more like a grimace. “And here I was trying to convince you guys that I get with the ladies all the time.”

Gladiolus chuckled, a deep rumble. “There’s a first time for everything, I suppose. Okay, let’s see what we have here.” He knelt next to Prompto, whose rapidly fluttering chest reminded him strangely of the skittish little hamsters his sister Iris had kept when they were children. But from what he could see, the damage at least appeared minimal. There was a deep scrape across his ribs that was already starting to clot, and various mild abrasions over his chest presumably from tumbling after impact, but nothing of real note compared to the knee injury.

Prompto trembled like a leaf as Gladiolus touched a particularly angry red mark on his flank— _that’s going to bruise for sure_ —a flush blooming in his cheeks to match the pink of his lips and the rims of his eyes. The shield remarked to himself that it sometimes made Prompto look like he had been crying, always crying, about Noctis no doubt. Gladiolus’s thick, dark eyebrows knit as he studied the smattering of freckles across the smaller man’s shoulders, golden constellations across a pale expanse of skin.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, the sound leaving his lips unconsciously as he traced his knuckles lightly along the sharp wing of Prompto’s shoulder blade. The rain was drumming steadily now on the tin roof, and Gladiolus hoped against hope that the gunner hadn’t actually heard him. _He couldn’t have, it was barely even a whisper—_

Prompto twitched at his touch and made a low, mournful sound, wrapping his arms around himself to cover his bare skin. He was so slim that Ignis pushed extra helpings on him at meals, insisting that it would help his stamina during battle, but Prompto always argued that he didn't need that much nourishment just to shoot a couple pistols.

_Besides, you don’t want me becoming a fat fuck again, do you?_ he would say, always with a light-hearted grin. Gladiolus hadn’t realized how much of a brave face it had been until now.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. As he followed a trail of freckles to the lean muscles of Prompto’s back, Gladiolus just couldn't grasp how a person this lovely, inside and out, could possibly have such a terrible view of their own body.

In the end, it always came back to Noctis. Gladiolus remembered an idle night during Crownsguard training, playing King’s Knight in the barracks as they always did in their free time, when Prompto had gotten drunk on too much ale and told him the story.

_“Eh? How’d I meet Noct?” Prompto took another swig from his pint glass and laughed. “Well, we met in middle school. Six, you should have seen me back then! I was a regular Fat Chocobo in those days. You know, it was Noct that motivated me to take up running and I lost a bunch of weight by the time we started high school.” He gestured at his body proudly, humming the victory ditty he always sang when he won a fight._

_“Wow, what’d he do, tell you that one day you’d be preparing for a road trip to his wedding and you’d have to get in shape so you could protect him from any threat along the way?” Gladiolus chuckled heartily, slapping Prompto on the back. “What foresight our great prince has!”_

_“Actually,” Prompto averted his eyes and took another drink, his expression brightening again as quickly as it had faded, “he told me I was_ heavy _. I’d fallen down and he was giving me a hand...I guess...I took it a little personally.”_

He had laughed it off that night, and so had Gladiolus. They had returned to their game of King’s Knight and then barely two weeks later, left with Noctis and Ignis in the Regalia on this wild goose chase of a road trip.

“Well blondie, the good news is that it doesn't look like you're hurt too badly here, at least.” Gladiolus raised his voice so Prompto could hear him. “I would say you could put your shirt back on but it's totally soaked still. Maybe just your vest for now? I'll try not to look at your dazzling beauty too hard until you can get back to your bag for a real shirt.”

Prompto hastily threw his still-damp vest back on, buttoning it partway to conceal his abdomen, then smiled tentatively and leaned his head back against the wall. “Thanks, you're my knight in shining armor, Gladio.”

Gladiolus grinned and tipped an imaginary hat. “Why thank you, milady.”

Prompto snorted and rolled his eyes, his gaze lingering on Gladiolus then with a fond smile on his lips. The rain began to taper slightly, the sound inside the shack quieting at last. “You know, if I had to choose someone from our party to get stuck in the wilderness with, I would have definitely chosen you.”

Gladiolus felt his cheeks burn, and he swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “Oh yeah? Why’s that? Woulda pegged you to pick good old Prince Noctis.”

Was that a ghost of a frown he saw cross Prompto’s face just then, or only his imagination?

“Well, for starters, you're pretty good at cutting down a lot of baddies at once, so if it were just you and me out there, that would definitely come in handy.”

“So...you're just using me for my greatsword, then.” Gladiolus couldn't help but snicker at the innuendo, and the flush on Prompto’s face told him that the same dirty thought had crossed his mind as well.

“No!” The gunner shook his head vigorously. “You're also dependable, and kind, and strong, and—”

“Not engaged to a beautiful Oracle and utterly emotionally unavailable?”

Gladiolus regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but there was no taking them back. Prompto’s face turned white as a sheet.

“It's probably not that obvious, so don't worry about it.”

Prompto frowned and grumbled, “Well, _you_ noticed.”

“Look, I'm reading most of the time and idly observing shit when I get bored—Six, there's only so much ‘Silence of Knowledge’ a man can take in one sitting, of course I'd notice. But Noct and Iggy are a couple of busybodies that wouldn't notice something even if it straight up took a dump on their heads.” Gladiolus shrugged, palms up. “And besides, you ain't half bad to look at, right? I like looking your way.” He grinned despite himself.

The gunner sighed, and returned Gladiolus’ smile albeit with a tinge of sadness. “I'm stupid, aren't I?”

Gladiolus shook his head. “Not at all.”

“I've tried to move on, really, I have. I think it's getting better. I've had a lot of time now to accept that he's really going to marry Lunafreya. I think he genuinely loves her too, which...helps.” Prompto sighed and shook his head. “She's a lovely person, I'm sure of it.”

“I've never met her either, but I think Noct is happy, and that's all I’ve ever wanted for him too.” Gladiolus regarded the gunner with unconcealed affection. “You're going to be fine, blondie. You'll land on your own two feet no matter what. Though...maybe not now. Maybe after Iggy gets a look at that knee.” He laughed then, and was relieved to hear the blond man join him.

“So,” Prompto ventured, the mischievous gleam returning to his eyes, “what's _your_ deep, dark secret, then?”

The shield opened his mouth and closed it again, visibly hesitating. _If I tell him, then there's really no going back from this, not for us, not for anybody._

He inhaled, a long, staggering breath that seemed to hang in the air, thick as pea soup.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

Gladiolus locked eyes with Prompto and as the words tumbled forth from his mouth, the rain suddenly picked up, a relentless din against the rusty sheet of tin over their heads. The entire shack shook with the roll of booming thunder.

By Ramuh’s beard, why did it have to storm harder _now_?

Prompto’s mouth moved, and his head cocked gently to the side. _I'm sorry_ , his lips said, followed by snippets of speech Gladiolus couldn't quite make out. This time, he was absolutely _certain_ that Prompto hadn't heard him over the deafening rumble of the rain, but the faint flash of recognition in those blue eyes told Gladiolus that somehow, the gunner had understood.

The shield’s mind raced in the moments following that felt like little eternities. Maybe Gladiolus could just continue his quiet vigil from the backseat and those eyes would occasionally look to _him_ instead of Noctis, even if they never spoke of this night again. He could be happy with just that, he told himself. He would be satisfied with a Prompto who saw him and knew his heart, whether he returned those feelings or not.

_Six, what have I done?_

It occurred to Gladiolus then that he still sat dangerously close to the gunner, close enough to touch. They spoke no further since the rain would just drown the words out, and all at once Gladiolus felt heat against his lips, Prompto’s eyes wide and blue.

There was nothing else. There was only this, him, Prompto, and the rain, so much rain on a tin roof.

\--

“Gladio!”

He looked up from his book—volume six—no worse for wear from its Imperial prison and not even a singed page from the Titan fight.

Prompto’s steel blue eyes held secrets as he caught the shield’s gaze. Gladiolus was thankful that he could hide the burning of his cheeks behind hundreds of pages and a thick leather binding.

“What do you think the boat ride is going to be like? I've always imagined that it’s like when we drive over a bunch of hills and Iggy doesn't slow down enough.” He made a puking gesture and laughed.

But before Gladiolus could even open his mouth to answer, the gunner turned to look instead at the half-asleep prince to his left. “Hey, Noct.”

_Plus_ _ça_ _chose, plus c'est la même chose,_ the shield thought wryly. _Not sure why I expected things to change_.

“Yeah?”

“You think I can meet Lunafreya when we get to Altissia?” Gladiolus found Prompto’s smile then too bright, even for him.

Noctis smiled and crossed his arms, lost in thought. “Why wouldn't you?”

“Guess you're right.” Prompto turned back around and while Gladiolus couldn't see his face then, he could guess the blond man’s expression from the tremble in his voice.

Ignis harrumphed and side-eyed Prompto with a frown, announcing dryly, “We are almost to Cape Caem.”

Like myths, memories could root themselves in truth and grow into fantasy. In one of the dozens of well-worn tomes in Gladiolus’ library back home, the philosopher Nietzsche once wrote: _“I have done that,” says my memory. “I cannot have done that,” says my pride, and remains inexorable. Eventually—memory yields_.

When he closed his eyes he could still hear the dull roar of the rain and feel the lingering heat of Prompto’s breath on his cheek, and so once they arrived in Cape Caem, Gladiolus planned to leave his companions. They would be fine without him, he was sure of it, and his time away training would reaffirm his strength, proving to himself that he truly deserved the title of Shield of the King, and allow him to finally sort through the memory of that night before the Trial of Ramuh.

He knew somehow that if he didn't, it was a night he would look back on for the rest of his life only to wonder what was memory, what was fantasy, and what might have been.

Prompto turned back to face him again then, his gaze intent as he locked eyes with Gladiolus. The sensation still felt too new for comfort.

“Someday I hope to love someone as much as Noct loves Lunafreya.”

The teasing peal of laughter that followed broke the spell, and somewhere to his left Noctis was already retorting and engaging the boyish banter with a smile.

But in the warmth that spread throughout Gladiolus’ chest, hope sprang eternal.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! Made it under the wire to submit something on the very last day of Promptio Week. I haven't written something on a deadline for quite some time, so I'm hoping that the quality is still up to snuff! Some dialogue in the end scene is lifted from episode two of Brotherhood, "Dogged Runner."


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